


Why Did I?

by PlayingChello



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Cheating, M/M, Marriage, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5403878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dante has a problem and most of them are Nero's new husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Did I?

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song "Asshole Father" by Sick Puppies because my working title for this was Asshole Husband and it played through my head every time I looked at the doc.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to Harley for inspiring and letting me write their AU.

Nero’s never really been big on parties. Too many people, generally drunk, too loud, too much touching. So even when the party is for him‒for his wedding even‒he’s still hanging out in a corner more or less alone.

His boyfri- _husband_ is dancing with everyone that offers, laughing and drinking and generally enjoying himself. Nero smiles, it’s nice to see him looking so happy. Though Nero does kind of wish he’d come over to him, take care of him. He’s trying to spin at his ring every now and then, but finds the finger empty, and getting antsy with the crowd. But that’s selfish, so Nero mentally kicks himself for the thought and returns to pretending to sip at his glass of champagne. He’ll just deal with his anxiety quietly in the corner, by himself. Cornelius deserves to have fun.

“Hey, kiddo. Why aren’t you up and having fun? It’s your wedding isn’t it?” Dante, one of Nero’s groomsmen and his best friend, sits down next to him, bottle of champagne in hand.

Nero glances over at him and shrugs, but he stops messing with his ringless finger. They’ve never really needed words to understand one another. Dante has been Nero’s best friend since grade school. Near inseparable. They grew up together, played pranks, raised hell, nearly got arrested. Hell, a schoolboy crush in middle school on Dante is what made Nero realise he’s gay. Dante’s always been there for him, through everything. And he’s the one constant Nero’s got, the person that always seems to know what to say. Or not say.

Dante’s eyes travel over Nero, taking note of the way his left hand is in his lap and his right plays with the rim of his champagne glass. “That’s quite the ring.”

Instinctively, Nero goes for the finger that usually holds his spinner ring, but when he finds it empty, he realises Dante means his wedding ring. He picks up his left hand and looks at it. Dante isn’t wrong, it’s quite a ring. Flashy. It’s a shiny silver titanium ring with an excessive number of diamonds. Eight larger ones in a band in the center, and smaller ones in bands to either side. It’s a lot of money that Nero is wearing on his finger now. Cornelius always did have a flair for the flashy. Nero smiles a little, “Yeah, Neil went all out for me.”

Dante scowls. It’s no secret that he’s less than thrilled with Nero’s choice in life partner. Dante’s never really liked anyone that Nero has dated, actually. Nero takes it as a compliment. Dante holds his boyfriends to high standards. Shows he cares. Nice to have such a good friend looking out for him. Though, with Neil, Dante seems to hold a particular contempt.

“Why aren’t you up dancing with your man, then?” Dante asks after a large swig from his bottle.

Nero looks out to the crowd again, where Neil is dancing with some guests. A flash of jealousy hits Nero when he sees him with some guy he knew in high school, dancing a bit too close. But he shakes his head, “He’s entertaining the guests.”

Dante’s eyes flick over to the man and he frowns, “Looks like he’s doing more than ‘entertaining.’”

“Dante!” Nero scolds. He knows Dante doesn’t like his bo- _husband_ , but the least he can do is pretend for Nero.

“What? The man just married my best friend, least he could do is keep his dirty paws off of other guys.” He takes another big gulp of champagne.

Nero frowns again. But before he can formulate a reply, the man in question comes over with a big grin on his face and the guy he was dancing with hanging off his waist. “Hey, babe. Why don’t you come join the party! Stop sitting in the corner with the drunks.”

Dante sneers and takes another drink, but otherwise doesn’t make a scene. Nero glances at him before looking back at his husband, “I’m a little tired, I’m just resting here for a bit. But go have fun.”

Cornelius frowns, then pushes the guy still hanging off of him away without ceremony. He steps forward and grabs Nero’s wrist harder than is really comfortable. “Come here, we’re dancing.”

Nero is swept away by Cornelius’ grip on him. Again, his fingers try to spin at his ring that isn’t there, and when he realises that his hand drops in defeat. Cornelius drags him into the center of the dance floor and spins him around so Nero’s back is pressed against his front and grinds into him with absolutely no shame. Nero’s face goes red as his husband presses into him, hands wandering over his body in an obvious show of ‘this is mine.’

It takes a bit, but Nero relaxes some. He never really forgets about the crowd, never really feels comfortable with all the guests able to watch as Neil practically fucks him on the dance floor. But his husband feels good behind him, and it makes it ok.

\--

Dante sulks in his chair in the corner, nursing the bottle of champagne he pilfered from the caterers. He watches the way _Neil_ stakes his claim on Nero, like the kid is a piece of meat for him to own and use. It pisses him off to no end but he stays put and grumbles internally. This is _Nero’s_ wedding and he’s here, being the supportive best friend, for _Nero_. As much as he wants to deck the guy, he’s trying his hardest to be civil for Nero’s sake.

Civil, because that’s the best he can do. That’s the best he can do when his best friend and the guy he’s been in love with since grade school goes off and marries a complete asshole. And that’s it, isn’t it? The cosmic cruelty of the century. Dante gets to watch his best friend, who he is hopelessly and completely in love with, be happy with some asshole that will never treat him right.

And he’s so deeply in love with him. He realised that ages back. Too late to matter, Nero’s little schoolboy crush on him had long since passed and he’d started seeing other guys. And maybe that’s what it was that made him realise. Made him see that he gets jealous every time Nero goes to spend time with a boyfriend, anytime he kisses someone that isn’t Dante. It showed him that his constant needing to be near Nero was anything but platonic. But Dante could never tell him.

Now it’s too late. He’s lost his chance to tell Nero how he feels. So he has to sit in the corner nursing too much alcohol just to stomach the way that asshole holds him on the dance floor. Just to keep from getting up and picking a fight for forcing Nero into a situation which obviously makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t know him at all.

Though, that was obvious by the ring. Dante’s thought about the ring he would get Nero, if he’d ever had the fucking balls to ask him to marry him. Smooth, simple. Maybe even a spinner just so he could have another one. That’s the kind of ring Nero would want. Not some flashy thing with too many diamonds he doesn’t give a shit about. Just a simple statement of binding, no ostentatious proclamation of ownership.

Watching the way Nero dances, clearly uncomfortable, is actual torture. But he keeps watching. Mostly to make sure he doesn’t have a panic attack. Dante knows what to do to take care of him, and he’s damn sure that _Neil_ won’t know. Doesn’t know. Dante has helped Nero through countless attacks through the years, he knows the drill. The kid has issues, more than most are willing to deal with. It’s probably why he’s such an easy target for assholes like Cornelius. If _anyone_ pays attention to him in any way, he has a tendency to fall headfirst. Even when Dante warns him about them.

The song ends and Nero turns around so he’s actually facing his husband. The people around them all focus on them and clap and Cornelius takes the opportunity to grip Nero by the back of the head and kiss him long and deep. Dante’s stomach curls in revulsion at the sight. He hates the way Cornelius needs to show the entire room how ‘his’ Nero is. It’s a further punch in the gut when Nero’s left hand is raised in just such a way that his ring glints off the lights twinkling in the room. Further proof of ownership.

It’s the last straw for Dante. He polishes off the last of the champagne and stands to go… anywhere else. He grabs another glass of champagne off a passing tray and heads over to the buffet. No pizza, no ice cream, not even strawberries. It’s obvious who planned this entire wedding, down to the food and even the decorations‒colourless and mute: silver, black, and white.

He grabs one of the fancy finger sandwiches and stuffs it in his mouth maybe a little harder than necessary when Kyrie walks up. Now she is a friend of Nero’s that Dante appreciates. Unfortunately, she’s the only one. Cornelius has uprooted nearly all of Nero’s friends, all of the male ones. He doesn’t speak to any of his ex’s or any other of his male friends save Dante, who wouldn’t leave him. Which leaves Kyrie.

She is the maid of honour on this fine evening. Initially, Nero asked Dante to be his best man. And though it hurt, Dante was overjoyed. But then Neil put his foot down and claimed Nero had to find a maid of honour, that his side would have a best man. So Dante was demoted to groomsman, and Kyrie became the maid of honour. Just another example of ways Cornelius has taken control over Nero’s life.

“Hey, Kyrie.”

She looks over at him and smiles, “Hello, Dante. Enjoying the party?”

He’s about to answer her, give her some bullshit answer about how it could be better, how he’s going to need to raid the liquor stock pretty quick, when an unfortunately familiar voice interrupts, “Yes, Dante, are you enjoying yourself?”

Cornelius’ tone is anything but congenial. It’s more patronising than anything. And it pisses Dante the _fuck_ off. But he’s here for Nero and he has to keep his cool for Nero. “Have to say, I could’ve thought up some better food choices, _Neil_.” He really hates when people that aren’t Nero call him that. That’s why Dante does it.

The man’s lips turn into a nasty scowl, “And that unrefined taste is exactly why I couldn’t trust Nero with food decisions. He’s terrible at these things. Poor soul needs me to do damn near everything.”

There are a lot of things that Dante can handle. He can handle Neil’s smartass remarks toward him, can handle him being a general asshole. He can handle having to watch him practically fuck Nero in public to show his dominance and ownership. But he can’t‒absolutely can not‒handle this prick putting Nero down like that.

He said he would try. Promised he would be good. Sorry, Nero.

Dante turns his head, rage boiling just beneath the surface, held back forcibly by sheer will, and looks to Kyrie. He holds his glass out to her, “Kyrie, babe, be a doll and hold my drink for me, yeah?” She looks utterly confused, but takes the glass from him.

The moment the glass is clear of his hand, he spin and his fist makes contact with Neil’s jaw. The people in the surrounding area gasp as the man of the hour crumples to his knees from the impact. Damn, that felt good.

Moments later, Nero is running over, “Dante! What the fuck!” Nero immediately drops to his knees to attend to his wounded husband. And, yeah, it hurts a bit. But it isn’t unexpected. Though, Nero’s next words hurt far more. He has the deepest frown as he looks back up to Dante, “Dante, go home. Just- Just go.”

Again, it isn’t really unexpected. Dante had broken his promise and made a scene. Punched out Nero’s husband at his own wedding reception. But it’s obvious how angry Nero is at him. And that sucks. He hates when Nero is mad at him. Because, one, he’s mad, and two, it means he’ll spend more time with the asshole husband and less with Dante.

But he respects Nero. Enough that he takes the glass back from Kyrie, knocks it back all at once, then walks away. Wasn’t much of a party anyway. Mostly just a torture chamber of watching the man he loves give himself to someone else.

So he leaves.

\--

Nero doesn’t speak to him for days. For _days_ Dante has to spend time alone without his best friend. It sucks. Like, it really sucks. So much so, that Dante finally takes it into his own hands to beg Nero’s forgiveness.

He picks a time that he’s sure Neil will be out at work. Orders pizza, nice and steaming hot, grabs a six pack from the fridge, then heads over to Nero’s and knocks on the door. When Nero opens the door, he scowls then tries to pull it closed again, but Dante forces himself in the way and breaks out with a terrible rendition of the song ‘Sorry’ by that shitty Bieber kid. He’s loud, boisterous, obnoxious, and probably more than a little off key.

But Nero’s anger is fading and his lips twitching every now and then. Dante really knows his efforts are working when Nero starts desperately trying to hold back a smile that he can’t seem to stop. And when he sighs and takes the pizza from Dante, he knows he’s really in. Nero can’t stay too mad at his dumb ass for too long.

Dante smiles as Nero lets him into the house and starts doling out a beer to Nero and to himself, knocking the tops off on a little table as he passes and making marks he knows will piss Neil off. “Here, kiddo. Drink up.”

“Trying to get me drunk, old man?” Nero asks as he takes the beer and takes a swig.

“The fact that you get tipsy from half a beer is no fault of mine. How drunk you get is entirely up to you,” Dante teases back, taking the pizza box back after he’s set down the rest of the beer and taking a slice. “This mean I’m forgiven?”

Nero shoots him an empty glare, then grins as he takes a piece for himself, “Yeah, can’t stay mad, you know that.”

“I was counting on it. So how’s the married life treating you?”

Something in Nero’s expression darkens for a fraction of a second. So quickly, that Dante isn’t entirely sure that he didn’t imagine it. Then he smiles in the way he always does when talking about his husband, “Great. Neil works a lot, so I don’t get to see him as much as I would like.”

Working late? Dante’s heard that one before. But he doesn’t say anything. Neil is a grade A asshole, but there is no proof that he’s quite as bad as Dante suspects. “I’m sure you’re getting plenty freaky in the sheets when he is around, then?” Even though he doesn’t really want to know the answer, he still has a morbid curiosity.

Again, Nero looks odd for the tiniest moment. But it’s masked by the way his cheeks turn pink as they tend to do if he gets even remotely embarrassed. “I, uh, I guess so.” Nero hides behind his beer, taking another sip.

It’s amazing how quickly they fall back into their normal routine. Laughing together, watching TV, eating, and generally being the completely and utterly platonic friends that they are. Sometimes, Dante can pretend. He can pretend that it’s him Nero is married to. He can pretend that they’re just lazing around and afterwards they’ll go to bed together.

But at the end of the day, Neil comes back, looks down in disapproval, and kisses Nero while keeping his eyes on Dante. Staking his claim, reminding Dante that Nero is his. And it’s after that display that Dante takes his leave. As much as he loves Nero and loves spending time with him, he would rather not hang around for the alpha male bullshit Cornelius feels the need to display.

So Dante returns home alone and spends some time with his hand around his dick thinking about a scenario in which Nero lies next to him. It’s a tired fantasy he’s long since gotten over feeling guilty about. He can hardly get himself off anymore if he’s not thinking about Nero.

\--

Over the next year or so, life seems to stagnate. Dante goes through cycles of trying to ignore Nero, back out of his life and let him live, and being as clingy as humanly possible. Dante wants to back off. Nero chose the person he wanted to love and spend his life with. So Dante wants to step back and let him have that. But he _can’t_. He knows Nero can do _so much better_ than Cornelius. Even if it isn’t Dante himself. Dante just wants Nero to be happy and have the amazing guy he deserves worship the ground he walks upon. Because Nero is special, and he should have someone that reminds him of that at every chance. Rather than some scum like Cornelius that treats him like property to be won and claimed.

Dante is in one of his trying to ignore Nero periods, drinking away his pain and eating his feelings. He’s probably gaining weight, he should hit the gym every so often. 

Nero’s really beautiful. He’s perfect and lovely and such a great friend. And Dante is sure his lips are soft. They look soft. He uses fucking chapstick for heaven’s sake. His lips _have_ to be soft. And _god_ he’s so cute. Dante wants to just pet his hair and kiss his neck and make him blush. He’s so easy to make blush. He’ll blush at anything. Dante could whisper into his ear about how adorable he is, how cute he sounds and how sensitive he is and he’d be bright red.

Dante loves Nero.

And suddenly, it seems like a really good idea to tell him that. He _needs_ to tell him. Right now. So he gets up, faster than he probably should, and wobbles a bit as he grabs his coat, then sets out. Nero isn’t too far away and he’s made the walk many times. It’s easy, and he hurries as fast as he can to the door.

When he gets there, he knocks rapidly on the door, shouting for Nero to come out. He has to tell him. He needs to know. It feels like an age before the door finally opens and Dante nearly falls into Nero. He sort of does, because next thing he knows, Nero is trying to hold him up, and lead him into the house.

“Nero… Nero I need t’tell ya…”

“Dante? How much did you drink? You smell like a bar.” He leads Dante slowly to the couch, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, ‘more so than usual.’

“Nero.” Dante says, looking very seriously into Nero’s eyes, gripping his shoulders both to ground himself and to make sure Nero is paying attention. “Nero. Nero, I love you. Marry me, Nero. I love you so much.”

Nero pats Dante’s knees in this sad kind of rejection way, “Dante, you’re drunk as fuck. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“No, Nero, lisssten. Lllllisten to me. I _love_ you.” His words are slurred and Nero is right, he’s drunk off his ass. He’s dragging out syllables, but he’s _trying_. Trying to make Nero see the truth. See that he’s so mother fucking _in love_ with him. “C’mon, Nero, baby boy. Marry me. We can run away together. Kiss me.”

“Dante…”

“Kiss meeeee,” Dante complains, leaning forward. He wants to feel those soft lips. Taste Nero’s tongue on his.

But Nero pushes him back, “You’ve been drinking, Dante.” Were Dante not drunk, he might realise that this isn’t exactly a denial. And it’s not a reminder that Nero is already married. He doesn’t say _no_.

Dante whimpers and tries some more to kiss Nero, but he ends up mostly just flopping uselessly and laying across Nero’s lap. And it’s there that he falls asleep.

\--

Some hours later, Dante wakes with a pounding headache and a sense that he’s done something very stupid. But there’s a warm blanket over him and he’s laying on… a couch? Doesn’t matter, it’s comfortable. He covers his face with the blanket and tries to melt into the couch. Maybe the world will disappear for a while if he just falls back asleep.

“Hey, freeloader, get the fuck out.”

Dante’s headache makes the grating voice of Nero’s husband makes it absolutely impossible for Dante to go back to sleep. Though, he wants to pretend just out of spite. But he knows that upsetting Neil too much means upsetting Nero and with the pounding in his head, he can’t really handle either. So he sneers in Cornelius’ general direction as he tries to right himself.

Only to feel kind of sick.

Gross. He swallows back the feeling that he’s going to puke, not willing to wound his pride enough to head to the bathroom, and pokes back toward the bedrooms. Cornelius yells at him the whole time, but between the pounding in his head and trying to stay upright without blowing chunks, it’s mostly just white noise.

Finally, he cracks open the bedroom door to find Nero still asleep. By this point, Cornelius has given up chasing after him and gone off to do whatever he does, so Dante sneaks into the room and approaches the bed. Nero looks so peaceful there, sleeping. Soft and gentle. Ever so carefully, Dante reaches out and brushes hair from his face. He wants to lean down and kiss his forehead, but he figures that might be crossing several lines. And he doesn’t want to wake him. So he simply whispers a goodbye and a thank you before sneaking back out of the room and ducking out of the house before Cornelius can find him again.

The walk back is lonely and painful and he spends much of it slowly remembering bits and pieces of the night before. He remembers drinking, remembers he was supposed to be avoiding Nero, and he remembers going over to Nero’s with a purpose. He has this sense that there was something really important he needed to do. Tell Nero…

Oh.

Well fuck.

Clearly Neil didn’t find out about Dante’s drunken confessions, or he wouldn’t have been permitted to stay the night. But what about Nero? Can Dante even look him in the eye anymore? Can he look at him at all? Does he even dare speak to him?

The thoughts swirl through Dante’s mind as he makes it back to his apartment and collapses into his bed in an attempt to sleep off his hangover. Sleep comes fitfully and uneasy.

\--

It takes a long while for Dante to feel like things have returned to normal between him and Nero after his drunken confession and proposal. Neither of them mention the event ever again. It’s months before Dante will let himself be alone with Nero and even longer before he lets himself near Nero after or during drinking. It’s probably near half a year before things become ‘normal’ again.

But it happens. Life returns to Dante and Nero fucking off as best friends together, Dante looking to Nero for some kickback and general mayhem, and Nero looking to Dante when he has marital problems or just needs to escape his life. And each and every time Nero does this it breaks Dante down a little more. Watching the love of his life marry someone else is bad enough. Watching him marry an asshole that constantly has him coming to Dante after a fight is absolutely devastating.

But several years after Dante’s confession, when Nero shows up at his door in _tears_? That entirely destroys him.

Even the knock on his door sounds off. It’s too timid, too light, and not Nero enough at all. Dante opens the door and finds Nero rapidly trying to wipe at his eyes and hide the tears he’s crying. He immediately steps forward and takes Nero’s face in his hands, “Nero, what’s wrong?”

“We had- had a- a f-fight. H-he…” Nero’s voice trails off, then very quietly and very watery, “He h-hit me.”

Without delay, before Nero has even finished speaking, Dante pulls him into a deep hug, petting Nero’s hair and rubbing his back. He’s furious, absolutely furious. He wants to march over to the dick and fucking _kill_ him for hurting this beautiful boy. But right at this moment, Nero matters much more. Making sure he’s alright and safe is far more important than exacting revenge.

“Come here, baby boy. Come in.” Dante carefully walks Nero into the living room, the younger man’s head buried in the crook of Dante’s neck, and sits down with him on the couch. The whole while, he whispers soft words to him and rubs circles into his back.

He never wanted to see Nero like this. Ever. He shouldn’t ever have reason to cry like this. Great hiccuping breaths and shuddering sighs, tears staining the collar of Dante’s shirt. Nero’s chest heaves and his shoulders shake and he just looks so _fragile_. It’s so heartbreaking for Dante to witness. He just wants to swallow all of Nero’s pain, make it go away. He wants this all to be better. He wishes he could kiss away the tears and take him out for ice cream.

What he really wants is for Nero to be upset about some stupid thing Dante did that he can make up for with kisses and begging and maybe some food. He wants the tears to be more of an act than a genuine display of true hurt. He really just wants to make it _better_ for Nero.

They sit on the couch in more or less silence while Nero cries for a long time. Long enough that Dante’s back gets stiff and his foot falls asleep. But eventually, Nero’s sniffles start evening out and his breathing regulates a bit. He calms down and stops clinging quite so much, relaxes against Dante. 

When Dante is pretty sure Nero is more or less finished, he looks down and tries to get Nero to look back at him. “Hey, you want some water?” Nero nods just slightly, eyes still watery. So Dante pulls him in for another squeeze, just quickly, then stands to get Nero a glass of water.

He stands behind the couch to hand the glass to Nero, not daring to sit back down. He’s scared he’ll cross lines he can’t erase, and he can’t do that to Nero in this state. So after Nero has his glass and has taken a few sips, Dante backs off and sits himself on the counter, legs hanging off, as he pours himself a glass of Jack.

After some time, Nero looks at Dante from over the rim of the glass, “Thank you, Dante.” Then, quieter, “You’d make a really good husband. Whoever you marry is so lucky.”

The compliment feels more like a stab directly into his heart. It twists like white hot rebar in his chest and spreads like poison. Dante wants to scream at Nero, tell him that it’s him, it’s always been him, that he wants to marry. That he’s too fucking late, but there isn’t anyone else and there never will be.

Dante can’t think up a good response to that, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he downs about half the glass of Jack he just poured for himself and relishes the way it burns his throat. Something physical that doesn’t decimate his chest and stomach with emotional pain.

There’s a silence between them until Nero sets his glass on the coffee table. Dante shoots a glance over at the sound of the glass on the table, then returns his attention to his own glass. Next thing he knows, Nero is in front of him, hand on either thigh. It’s so domestic, so simple. It’s almost like Dante could lean forward and kiss him and everything would be alright.

But it’s Nero who leans in. It’s Nero who presses his lips to Dante’s. It’s so quick. Almost shy. And it’s over _far_ too soon. But it’s like a fucking dream come true, as cliche as that sounds. It’s literally a fantasy realised. Nero kissed Dante. Dante has to take moments to keep himself from jumping in joy or pulling Nero in for a much longer, more passionate kiss. But he can’t. He doesn’t know how far this allowance goes. So he sits there, frozen with wide eyes trained on Nero’s. “Wha…?”

“I mean it. You’re such a good friend and you’d be such a good husband.”

And the pain returns. Dante wants to hate Nero for giving him that kiss and then telling him that. He wants to resent him. But how could he? He loves him too much. As much as it hurts and beats him up inside, he loves him.

An awkward silence passes in which Nero stands there between Dante’s legs as if it was them that were married and they were just having a domestic moment of tenderness. But soon enough a blush blooms across Nero’s cheeks and he steps back with muttered apologies. He goes back to sit down on the couch again and Dante remains frozen.

Eventually, Nero flicks on the television and the tension slowly melts between them. Somehow, it doesn’t matter what happens between them, because things always return to normal. Before long, Dante joins Nero on the couch and lays across the couch with his head in Nero’s lap. Totally platonically. Of course. Nero’s fingers absently run through Dante’s hair and again Dante can almost pretend that everything is ok and right and Nero is his.

Somehow, they end up talking about sex. It’s a topic Dante feels comfortable with, despite his wishes that his experience could be with the boy with whom he is conversing. It’s easy to talk about for him, and it’s entertaining to make Nero blush constantly.

Dante mentions that his sex life is pretty dry as of late, a consequence of his obsessive devotion to Nero, but he leaves that part out. “But I bet you’re getting it like crazy. How often do you have to do your sheets these days?”

Nero’s blush actually fades. Something unheard of with this topic. His face pales a bit and he looks down at his hands. “I actually haven’t come in months.”

“ _What_?” Dante exclaims, absolutely horrified. He sits up to look at Nero more intently, “Did you guys hit the marital dry spell _already_?”

This time, Nero blushes, but in a flash of anger rather than embarrassment. “ _No_.” Then Nero sinks back again, looking back down at his hands once more, “No, we, uh, we have plenty of sex. I just… haven’t come.”

“What, _why_?” What kind of asshole…?

He shrugs, “It’s hard to get me to. It’s fine.”

“Oh, Nero. It is so not fine. Why don’t you get yourself off?” Dante asks, now intensely curious. And a little smug about the fact that Cornelius can’t fulfil Nero sexually.

Nero’s blush of embarrassment is back, “Told you, it’s hard to get me to come. Even for myself.”

“Oh my god. Nero. Why hasn’t Neil helped you out?” Dante subtly scoots a bit closer to Nero on the couch, attention completely abandoned from the television and focused on Nero.

“He tries, it’s hard. It’s my fault anyway, it’s no big deal.”

And that’s the truth of it, isn’t it. Nero is so _conditioned_. Dante knows that he had the shittiest childhood of most. A drunk, addict, prostitute for a mom that was physically abusive as fuck. A dad that walked out when he was almost too little to remember. And a stepdad that abused him in ways far worse than the physical scars his mother left. His history is riddled with self harm and self degradation due to conditioning by his shit family that he’s a mistake and doesn’t deserve life. He’s had so much misery in his life. And that’s probably why he doesn’t see that he’s falling into the same situation with Cornelius. Cornelius doesn’t hit him, except for today, he doesn’t get drunk and throw things at him, doesn’t outright yell at him and put him down in obvious ways. He’s not as bad as his family was, so he must be alright.

But that’s not how it works. Nero deserves the _world_. He deserves someone that will care for him, support him, and not manipulate the _fuck_ out of him and make him feel like everything is his fault. Cornelius is terrible to him, emotionally manipulative and abusive. But any time Dante has even hinted as much to Nero, he gets angry and ignores Dante for weeks.

But this. This is just being an asshole. “Decent people make sure their partner finishes. Every time. No exceptions.” It’s something Dante feels strongly about. In fact, he prefers if his partners come more than once by the time he’s finished.

Nero doesn’t respond. He turns his attention back to the television and it seems the conversation is over. So Dante backs off. He’s said what he can. He, too, returns his attention to the television.

\--

It only takes about two weeks for Dante’s words to really get to Nero. Immediately, they grip into a corner of his brain and take root. They rattle around any time he’s with Neil. They permeate every time Neil sleeps with him then rolls over and leaves him hard and frustrated. And every time Nero feels down about something they come forward to remind him that something isn’t right.

But the thing that really does it in the end is the kiss.

He can’t stop thinking about it. He doesn’t know why he kissed Dante. It was a comfort thing, he guesses. For Dante or for himself he isn’t sure. But the moment keeps playing on repeat in his mind and he can’t help but smile a little. Dante lips were dry and he smelled like whiskey. But it was nice. Friendly. Or something.

As soon as he pulled back, he was reminded suddenly of the night Dante had come over, drunk as fuck, and confessed his love. And as much as Nero denies it was real, that it was anything more than a drunken mess of confusion in which Dante didn’t know what he was saying, something about it felt real. Something felt genuine.

All of this stews in his head for two weeks. Two weeks before Nero finds himself knocking on Dante’s door again.

The door opens, like it always does. Dante smiles, like he always does. Nero is invited inside, like he always is. But when he sits down on the couch, things start to change. He grabs Dante’s wrist, that’s new. He pulls the elder man down onto the couch with him, clearly more forceful than he’s ever done before. And then he grabs Dante’s shoulders and kisses him full on the mouth, something he’s never dared to do before.

Dante melts against him. There’s a fraction of a second at first where Nero thinks he’s going to push him away, yell at him for kissing him, for cheating on his husband. But he just melts. Melts and responds, but never once crosses a boundary that Nero doesn’t cross first.

When he pulls back, Nero is panting a bit. Dante has this looks on his face that Nero isn’t entirely sure what to do with. It’s soft and gentle, with something behind it that Nero can’t place.

It’s Dante that breaks the silence between them, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, but where did _that_ come from?”

Nero recoils, “I’m sorry. I… I’m sorry.”

Dante leans forward with the most understanding look on his face and wraps Nero up in his arms. He feels so safe here. So cared for. Dante really is wonderful to him. Always makes him feel great. Loved. “Hey now, nothing to be sorry for, kiddo. What’s up with you?”

This time, Nero melts. He sags into Dante’s hold and takes a deep breath, “Did you mean it?”

Fingers through his hair make him sigh before Dante answers, “Mean what?”

“What you said, when you were drunk.”

Nero watches Dante search his mind and realise what he means. It doesn’t take long, but he didn’t think it would. Nero watches the older man struggle with himself. Then, finally, a single nod, confident and resolute.

And that’s all Nero needs.

He kisses him again. Hands on either side of his face. He’s a bit less in Dante’s face this time. Instead, he starts slow, close mouthed. Before he deepens the kiss and leans into Dante and encourages wandering hands. They make out like fucking high schoolers.

And Nero loves it.

There’s something that just feels so right about Dante. Something in the way his hands move carefully over him, caressing him rather than manhandling him. In the way he doesn’t push Nero into a realm that approaches uncomfortable, but rather waits for Nero’s permission in one way or another. He follows Nero’s lead.

It’s a long time before they part this time, and when they do, Nero trails kisses down Dante’s neck until he nuzzles into his chest. “I think I made a mistake.”

Dante inhales sharply, then holds his breath, Nero can feel it by where he’s laying on him. Then he sighs, “What mistake?”

“Marrying Neil. He’s- I-” He pauses, not sure how to say what he wants to get across, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

And just like he always does, Dante is the best kind of friend. He hugs Nero close and whispers that everything is ok. He’s the only person in Nero’s life that will continually remind him that he’s a good person, that he’s wonderful. And even if Nero has a hard time believing it, it’s nice to hear.

“Kissing me probably isn’t the best way to figure this out.” Something in his voice sounds off, but Nero can’t place it so he ignores it.

“He’s cheating on me. Has been for ages. Maybe even the whole time we’ve been together.”

Dante just looks at him, “Nero…” he whispers. “So you’re cheating to get back?”

Something about that, about the way he says it or maybe just the words themselves, pisses him the fuck off. “I’m not cheating to _get back_. I’m not-” He cuts himself off. He can’t say he’s not cheating. He’s already gone there. He just made out with Dante for who knows how long on his couch. His best friend. “I made a mistake.” He whispers.

What he doesn’t expect, is the way Dante backs away from him. They go from touching at near every possible place, to a seemingly infinite chasm between them. “Nero, what are you doing here?”

Nero isn’t sure how to answer that. Mostly because he doesn’t know. Something drew him here. Something dragged him out of his misery over his crumbling life and brought him to the doorstep of his best friend. Someone that always makes him feel better, always knows what to do. “I… I don’t know. You always know what to do, Dante. I don’t know what to do.”

Dante crosses his arms and puts on an almost pained smirk, “I’m kinda biased, kiddo. Don’t know that I’m the best person to ask.”

The way he says that, sad but honest, pains Nero. How long has he been waving this relationship in front of his best friend? A best friend that is apparently in love with him. How long has that been true? How had Nero not seen it?

Thinking back, it’s obvious now. The way Dante always lingers on him. He’s always got a smile, just for him, no matter what. Even now, Dante smiles at him. He’s always been exceptionally pissy toward any of Nero’s boyfriends, especially Neil. He looked goddamn heartbroken, through another smile, when Nero asked him to be his best man, and later changed to groomsman. Nero doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before.

“You’ve cared about me a long time, huh?”

Dante must not have been expecting a question like that, because for a moment he looks utterly shocked. But as soon as it comes, he evens out his expression again. “God, kid. Guess it’s honesty hour. Been crazy about you since we were in high school.”

That’s a surprise. Nero had had a crush on Dante when they were in middle school, but Dante hadn’t returned the feelings at the time. It didn’t work, but it opened Nero’s eyes to liking guys. But that Dante has liked him since they were in school… “Why didn’t you ever _tell_ me?”

Dante shrugs, “You weren’t interested. I don’t know if you realise this, Nero, but you’re easy as fuck to read. At least to me. Known you too long. You either weren’t interested, had some boyfriend, or both. I wasn’t about to crash in when you weren’t receptive and proclaim my love to you.”

Nero cocks his head and raises a brow, “Isn’t that exactly what you ended up doing?”

Dante frowns, “I was drunk. Doesn’t count.”

“Yeah ok, sure,” Nero laughs. Then he sobers, “I made a big fucking mistake, Dante.”

Once again, Dante gets this sad, sympathetic smile on his face, “What are you going to do about it, kiddo?”

Nero thinks about that. He thinks really hard for a few moments about what he’s going to do. But nothing comes to mind. He has no real ideas. So he lays back into Dante, hoping he’s still accepted there. “I don’t know, I’ll think about it later. Just… right now… hold me?”

Immediately, Dante’s hands come up and arms wrap around him and Nero just feels safe and warm and happy. Dante mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I’d like to do a lot more than that.” So Nero turns his head to look up at him.

“Then do it.”

Dante looks at him like he’s joking, but his expression slowly morphs into one of disbelief as Nero continues staring up at him, “What? Nero…”

“Yes, I’m sure. No, I won’t regret it in the morning. I’m not drunk, I have full capacity to consent. Just, please, make me feel good for _once_.”

For a long moment, Nero thinks Dante is going to turn him down. He stays quiet, as if debating something with himself. Then, finally, he leans down and places a soft kiss on Nero’s forehead, “Ok.”

In silent agreement, they get up, Dante with his arm around Nero’s waist, and walk toward Dante’s bedroom. It’s a walk Nero has made many times. Dante always insists he takes the bed while Dante sleeps on the couch when Nero would stay over. But he’s never taken it while being held, much less by Dante.

Right before they reach the doorway, Nero stops short, “Um,” he blushes, “I told you that it’s hard to get me to come. You, uh, you don’t have to get me to.”

Dante’s only response is to raise an eyebrow at him, as if his sentence was a challenge, and grin as he pushes into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

Moments later, Dante is kissing him like Nero has always wanted to be kissed. It’s full of fire and passion and _need_. His hands are all over Nero and he loses track of where he’s being touched. And it’s _bliss_. They haven’t even done anything, and it’s already absolute heaven. He feels loved and cared for and _wanted_.

Nero falls into the act like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hands move up under Dante’s shirt and are met with the sharp lines of muscles. He can feel Dante already half hard through his jeans.

And then Dante’s mouth finds its way to Nero’s ear and nips.

Nero nearly convulses. No one has ever done that to him before and it makes him _weak_. The sound that comes out of his throat should be _illegal_. How is it that a man he’s married to and has been sleeping with for _years_ has never made him feel the way Dante just had in less than five minutes?

He can hear the smirk in Dante’s voice when he speaks, “Find something good, baby boy?”

Nero can’t even answer. He just whines pathetically and leans into Dante’s chest, hoping he’ll keep him up. He does, but only for a moment before Dante lifts him onto the bed.

“ _Fuck_. How long…” Dante starts. But he doesn’t finish the thought before his hands start exploring Nero’s body, pushing clothes away as he goes. It isn’t long before they’re both laying naked in the bed together, with Dante bridged over Nero and kissing him so sweetly anywhere he can reach.

Nero has never felt so simultaneously vulnerable and safe as he does right now in this moment. Dante is a very special kind of person, able to fulfil dark desires while still showing Nero in absolute affection. When Nero gives him the ok, he bites and chokes and Nero’s fingers dig into Dante’s back.

Dante is both exceedingly gentle and viciously cruel. And the dichotomy is intoxicating. He seems to know exactly how to make Nero keen and cry. He finds himself unable to control his volume or his squirming, incapable of words beyond single syllabic encouragements. Dante feels so incredible inside him. And it just works. They fit together as if that was how it was meant to be.

Nero comes twice before Dante comes once.

Nero’s mind is so blank that he can’t even discern properly how long their romp in the sheets lasted. But he came _twice_. Two mind blowing orgasms after months of not being able to at all.

And Dante is very aware, “Just so you know, it’s easy as fuck to get you to come.”

Nero knows he’s blushing at that.

\--

Nero stays the night with Dante and well into the next day. Dante gives Nero several more equally incredible orgasms before he finally drags himself away and back to his life. The elder is sad to see him go. And when he closes the door behind him, the gravity of the bliss of the last 24 hours presses down onto him. Nero gave him several hours of absolute joy, of exactly what he’s wanted for years. Only to leave him and return to his husband. The one that doesn’t deserve the wonder that is Nero.

Because as much as he wants to be, Dante isn’t the one that Nero married.

They continue sleeping together. It’s a ritual now. Nero comes over about as frequently as Neil is gone and barely makes it through the door before he’s on Dante. Not that Dante much minds. Other than the obvious hurt that he has to suffer every time Nero leaves and the moral dilemma of helping his best friend cheat on his husband, Dante feels pretty damn good. Even if a bit used. He wants to tell Nero he’s not willing to be second best, to be the man on the side that he drops each night to go back to his husband and his life. But he can’t, because telling him that has the chance of ending this, of taking away what is possibly the best thing to happen to him in his life.

He gets _Nero_. Love of his life, unattainable until now, _Nero_. That’s such a special thing. He cherishes that boy. He makes it his only purpose to make Nero feel like he is the most important and special being on this earth. Because he _is_.

Months this goes on. Dante watches the way Nero gets increasingly more run down when he comes to the door. It makes the way he lights up when Dante opens the door even more obvious. Which for a moment makes Dante’s heart sing because he’s so damn beautiful. But then the implications sink in and he realises how heartbreakingly sad it is.

One day, Nero comes and he’s in tears again. It’s a sight Dante never even wanted to see once, and now this is the second time. Were it not for the definite threat of jail time and the likely backlash of hate from Nero, he would kill the man that causes him to cry.

“Nero, baby, what’s wrong?”

Through tears and watery words, Nero replies, “I- I d-did it.”

Dante hugs Nero and brings him into the apartment, “Did what?”

Nero doesn’t respond. It seems like he can’t, with all the crying and choking and sobbing. Dante is really at a loss. Nero is really upset. He does his best to calm the boy’s tears, wiping them away and kissing his face all over.

Then, out of nowhere, “Ask me again.”

Dante looks at Nero dumbly, “What?”

“Ask me.”

It takes Dante what feels like an age to understand what it is that Nero means, and when he does, a smile spreads until it’s taking over his expression. “Nero, will you marry me?”

Though tearful, Nero’s smile is absolutely beautiful. His answer is quiet and cracked from crying, but no less impactful, “Yes.”

Hands on either side of Nero’s face, Dante pulls him in for a very wet, very passionate kiss. He’s never felt happier than this moment.

And when they tell their friends, it’s Kyrie that surprises them by saying, “ _Finally_!”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/playingchello).
> 
> PLEASE READ HARLEY'S PIECE IT'S LINKED BELOW

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Often.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6389080) by [eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar/pseuds/eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar)




End file.
